“Why don’t we hike Siganl Hill tomorrow?”, my cousin Lil casually suggested one day last week.
“Sure, sounds like fun!” I innocently responded, with not a clue of what was in store for me!
Well, it was all fun and games starting out, with me and Lil laughing, joking, and stopping at strategic points along the trail to take some “selfies”.
We were having so much fun, in fact, that I am sure we could have been mistaken for a couple of crazy-in-love lesbians. Please don’t get me wrong. I am not making a negative slur about lesbians. In fact, given my history of man problems I sometimes think it is a cruel injustice that I wasn’t born one myself. I am just saying we looked very happy together, that’s all.
We took some lovely shots of the narrows as we strolled along, and I was so enthralled by the scenic beauty that I barely noticed how steep the incline had become. Let’s just say, we were hiking a trail where only mountain goats should tread. For part of the (six inch wide) trial, there was nothing but a rock wall to my left, and a sheer cliff with a drop of about 200 feet to my right. At one point, and I kid you not, there was actually a chain handrail to prevent one from plummeting to one’s death on the sharp rocks below. Lil was unfazed, as she casually strolled in front of me, mountain-goat-like, while fearlessly holding the chain with one hand. I followed, two hands firmly clasped to the chain, eyes bulged, with my left cheek and full body firmly pressed to the rock wall on the left. I wish I had a picture to share, but hey I was way too busy trying to stay alive!
Finally we broke to the top of the hill and once again I was spellbound by the natural beauty of our scenic province of Newfoundland and Labrador.
As I gazed at the seagulls flying below me….stop!…yes, you read that right…the seagulls were flying BELOW me….that’s how high up we were…I felt that I had just climbed Mount Everest. I was actually reveling in my sense of accomplishment, when I discovered that we were only halfway up the hill. (When I say “hill” of course, I mean by Newfoundland standards. When my friend Susan was visiting from Georgia a couple of weeks ago, she said, “You call those hills? Where I come from we call them mountains!”)
So here is me, realizing that I still had to climb several hundred steps before I finally reached the summit:
But I did it! With major gluteus maximus burn, I finally stood atop Signal Hill, where Lil and I sat and ate organic apples and entertained ourselves by making fun of the tourists.
I will admit, my glutes are still burning and I have diagnosed myself with a mild case of post- traumatic stress disorder (well I am a Psycyhologist, so I am qualified to make the diagnosis). You may be wondering, would I ever do it again? Well, hell yeah! (So Susan, you know what is in store for you when you visit in September!)